


The 4th Year Boggart

by theweightofmywords



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Slice of Life, Yule Ball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 00:14:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4855958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theweightofmywords/pseuds/theweightofmywords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neville asks Ginny to the Yule Ball, and it's going exactly as he had practiced. And that's the problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The 4th Year Boggart

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

Neville was vaguely aware of hearing his own voice. His lips were moving, and he could sense his hands waving around. But he felt like he was watching himself in a movie. 

_Or maybe you died from embarrassment, and you're watching yourself from the Afterlife_ , he thought. And yet, he could still hear himself talking. 

In his 3rd year, he had faced a Boggart in the form of Professor Snape, but he was sure that if he were to face one again, it would be of this moment: asking Ginny Weasley to the Yule Ball. 

"I am an excellent dancer," he heard himself say. 

Ginny stared up at him from her parchment. 

"I can waltz, as well as foxtrot, and I am also a fan of contemporary music, such as the Weird Sisters!" 

He wanted to shrivel up as soon as the words flew out of his mouth. He sounded like a used broom salesman. He felt as if he was under some sort of Imperious Curse; all of his practicing in the mirror must have made it easy for him to mindlessly repeat everything.

"And that is why I think we would have a ball at the Ball!" he announced with a final cadence. Taking a deep breath, he slumped down in his seat. He was not even aware that he was standing beside her table. 

"A ball at the Ball?" she asked quietly. 

"A ball at the... I just said that. Oh gods," Neville groaned, covering his hands with his face. 

"You also just said that you are of the belief that it is wise to surround yourself with people whose company you enjoy on such joyous occasions," she continued, a smile spreading across her face. 

"Just stop!" He was hiding his face behind his books.

"And that you excel at the waltz, the foxtrot, and even the samba!" Ginny giggled. 

Neville dropped his books to his lap and stared at the fire. He shrugged. 

"You don't have to say yes. I understand if you don't-"

"Shut up, Nev," Ginny punched his arm lightly. “Of course I’ll go.”

His head spun to look at her. He felt weak, like he had just broken the surface of the water after being close to drowning. 

"You'll go?" 

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah! I’d love to have a ball at the Ball with you.” 

“Let’s just pretend that whole speech never happened,” he pleaded. 

“Oh, alright,” she acquiesced. “But it was a nice speech, you have to admit.”

“I’m not completely rubbish, I guess.”

“No,” Ginny said, her lips curving up, “You’re not.”


End file.
